


Losers Interludes

by confunded, mikehanlonstan, shanisafan



Series: Losers In College RP [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Memories, Elementary School, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Reddie, Roleplay Logs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded/pseuds/confunded, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan/pseuds/mikehanlonstan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanisafan/pseuds/shanisafan
Summary: A series of flashbacks/memories from various moments in the Losers' past before they parted ways in High School, beginning way back in Second Grade, when Richie and Eddie met for the first time. (This side-fic is an accompaniment piece to the Losers In College project, and will have a nonlinear timeline.)





	1. Richie Tozier Makes a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although we already wrote about [Richie and Eddie's 'first meeting' in college](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655035/chapters/36474042), we wanted to write a cute thing for the REAL first time Richie and Eddie met, way back in 2nd grade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings, tags, ships, etc, will all change as more flashbacks are written; authors will vary each chapter. [Click here for more info about the Losers in College project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**September, 2005 (Ages 6-7), Derry Elementary School - Characters: Richie & Eddie**

It’s a warm, late summer day in Derry and Eddie is sitting miserably in his new second grade classroom. He’d spent the morning at home trying to convince his mom he was feeling well enough to go to school, after missing the previous day because he sneezed once at breakfast. Turns out, there really  _is_  some kind of cold going around because his best friend Bill isn’t in school today, either, which means he’s officially alone, and now sort of convinced he’s  _actually_  sick.  
  
Eddie doesn’t much like school this year. Most of the other kids in his class are bigger than him and not interested in playing with the weird ‘ass-ma’ kid (even the word makes them all laugh at him). To make matters worse, they spend all their free time singing songs from  _Kidz Bop 8_ , which Eddie knows none of the words to. Worst of all, it’s 'Math Hour’ now, and even though he’d only missed one day, he already feels like he’ll never catch up.  

And  _worst-worst_  of all, there’s one boy in glasses who sits two seats over from him and has spent the whole week picking on him - even at this very moment. Eddie slumps down in his seat and thumps his feet up against the bottom of his desk, shooting the boy his meanest warning look before turning his attention back to their teacher.

.

Richie is so bored in class that the teacher may as well not have bothered to come in today. Every word that comes out of her mouth is something he already knows or can figure out himself, and he would rather be outside playing, or maybe practicing some voices on anyone nearby.

Currently, he is focused on getting the attention of a small brunette boy in his class. The boy has evaded him all week, although he’s one of the only kids in class fighting to be his friend.   
  
He thinks about his options here. He  _could_  throw a spitball at him, but he seems to freak out at gross stuff like that. Richie has been working on throwing his voice like a ventriloquist… but no, that needs more practice. He finally settles on scribbling down a note on a piece of paper, then hands it to the girl sitting in the way of their potential friendship.

.

The girl between them grabs the note from Richie and starts to open it, thinking it is for her, and knocks her pencil to the floor in the process. The sound draws the teacher’s attention, and Eddie watches her stop what she’s doing to walk over to the girl’s desk.  
  
“May I have that, please, Sydney?” she asks, holding out her hand expectantly. The girl hands her the note, which she reads before raising her eyebrows and turning to Richie. Eddie leans curiously over his desk to watch the scene unfold. “Richie, since you have something so important to say, why don’t you come on up and share this with everyone?”

.

Richie looks at the teacher and blinks. He slowly rises from his seat, eyeing the note anxiously, but he plasters on an unconcerned expression. “You got it, teach.”

The teacher narrows her eyes and hands him the note. He stands at the front of the class with every young eye on him, including the brunette who was supposed to receive the paper in his hands. He clears his throat.

“Any voice requests?” he offers to the crowd with an easy charm.  
  
“Your  _own_  voice will do just fine, Richie,” the teacher answers with suppressed laughter.   
  
“Rightio.” He takes a deep breath and imagines everyone in their underwear, like his celebrity idols have advised in interviews, which turns out to be a bad idea for unclear reasons. “ _Dear Small Big Eyed Boy. We should play at recess. Maybe share a juice box. What have ya got to lose, kid? I won’t bite. Much._ ”

His eyes raise to meet the boy’s across the room.

.

Probably no one would have known the note was for Eddie if Richie had not looked right at him, but since that’s exactly what happened, every student in the room immediately turns in their seats to look at Eddie. Even the teacher is looking at him, an amused glint in her eyes. He sinks down in his chair, wishing he hadn’t tried so hard to convince his mom he wasn’t sick that morning.

This kid is threatening to  _bite him!!!_  And no one is  _doing anything_  about it!!!  
  
Face bright pink, he looks down at his hands, which are neatly folded in his lap, in silence, and tries to ignore the tightening in his throat.

.

“Well, I’m sure Eddie would _love_  to play with you at recess,” the teacher says kindly. That kind voice remains even as she passes out her next punishment: “Richie, grab a white board marker and answer the following math problems.”

He groans and pushes his giant glasses up on his nose. He takes his time picking a color and settles on purple before flashing a toothy smile at her. “Hit me with your best shot.”

.

The teacher - Mrs. Osgood - grabs a small stack of worksheets and gives them to one of the girls in the front row to hand out to everyone. Then, she walks over to the board, stands next to Richie, and hands him his own worksheet.

“How about you remind the class how to add Doubles Plus One, since you’ve been paying  _such close_  attention today,” she says with a hint of sarcasm behind her positive attitude. She proceeds to write the first three problems on the board: 5 + 6, 4 +5, and 9+8. “Walk us through these and then you can go back to your desk, okay?”  
  
Eddie, meanwhile, looks down at his worksheet in dismay. The class must have started this topic yesterday while he was sick! At the beginning of the week they were just adding  _regular_  doubles!! But these problems are using  _completely_  different numbers!!

He bites his lip and looks up, wondering if Richie feels as terrified as he does, having to do it by himself in front of everyone.

.

Richie has his back to the class at first, staring at the problems but already knowing the answers. He smiles and turns to face the class, adjusting his glasses the way his grandfather does when he wants to look smart.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts in a grand narrator voice, which just sounds like Richie only much louder. “What we have here is a trick of the mind. An… er…  _illusion_ , if you will. ‘Cause Doubles Plus One is exactly what it claims to be.”   
  
He turns on his heel and sidles up to the board. “We know that 5 plus 5 equals 10, and we know that 10 plus 1 equals 11. We  _also_  know that 6 is one higher than 5.  _Therefore_ , 5 plus 6 is 11.” He writes the answer and repeats this process two more times, adding, “Don’t be threatened by the 9 being before the 8 in this one…”   
  
After he finishes, Richie turns around and takes a low, sweeping bow and the class erupts into laughs and giggles. Mrs. Osgood touches his back lightly, asking him to return to his seat, which he does, but not before shooting Eddie a shy smile. He plops down in his seat and finishes the worksheet quickly.

.

Eddie listens to Richie explain the math problems, and he’s surprised by how much the process makes sense, just by hearing it from Richie instead of the teacher. Maybe she explained it the same way the day before and Richie’s just repeating her, but still… he doesn’t seem to struggle one bit as he quickly completes all three of the problems with the correct answers. Eddie giggles along with the others, but just a little bit, because he’s too busy staring at Richie in amazement. He stops only when Richie looks at him again and smiles, and quickly turns his attention back to his paper to copy down the answers on the board.  
  
To his surprise, the next few answers come easily to him, using the method Richie had for the first three. As he works, he sneaks a couple of glances over in Richie’s direction. The first time, he’s working, hunched over with his nose almost touching the paper and his big glasses sliding down a little. The second time, though, he’s leaning back and looking bored, leading Eddie to believe that he must have magic powers, because there’s no way anybody can finish a worksheet  _that_  fast!

.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Osgood asks the students to put down their pencils, saying they can finish after recess. Richie’s face lights up in excitement. His favorite times at school are recess and lunch, because that’s where he can shine and entertain his classmates without being punished constantly.  
  
_This_  teacher seems to like him more than ones in the past. She appreciates his jokes and humor, but she still punishes him like the ones before her have. He already got a huge lecture from his mother the other week about needing to have a good behavioral report card this year. Last year’s was less than complimentary. He managed to snag it at one point and read, _'Richie is disruptive, disrespectful, distracted and can’t sit still.’_ Although the words were big, judging from his mother’s reaction of crying at the time, he knew they were not nice, and he hates upsetting his mother more than anything in the whole wide world. So he is trying to do better this year. Trying his best, even.  
  
For now, he puts down his pencil and quickly makes his way over to the small boy’s desk.

.

Eddie rushes to finish up a couple more problems so he doesn’t end up falling behind, but the class is suddenly being ushered over to the door to line up for recess. Then a shadow falls over his paper and he looks up, expecting to see the teacher, but instead he sees Richie. He covers up his paper with his hand, just in case his answers are wrong and Richie notices. “Um… hi.”

.

“Hi! I’m Richie!” He jams his hand in front of Eddie’s face expectantly, waiting for a handshake.

.

“I know. Mrs. Osgood says your name every day,” Eddie replies bluntly. “I’m Eddie.” His eyes move from Richie’s face to his outstretched hand, then he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not s'posed to… um, do that.”  
  
“Boys, let’s go! Your classmates are waiting for you,” the teacher calls from across the room, jerking her head toward the line of restless second graders by the door.

.

Richie walks backwards without looking away from Eddie, knocking into desks as he does. “You’re supposed to introduce yourself too. Name, handshake, and a nod. Like how gangsters do it!”

.

Eddie finally stands and follows Richie to the end of the line. “I’m not s'posed to  _touch people_  because I’m sick. Hands are dirty, so I could get sicker.” He absentmindedly adjusts the small red and yellow fanny pack at his waist. “What’s a gangster?”

.

“Gangsters have cool hats and guns, and take people’s money who get on their bad side. Oh! They also, um, talk like this…” Richie takes a deep breath and puffs out his chest. “ _You come to me, on the day of my daughter’s wedding…_ ” His attempt at a Marlon Brando impression is poor, as he talks with his hands and his high voice makes him about as intimidating as a puppy.

.

Eddie looks more bewildered than anything else, but a smile tugs at his lips just the same.  
  
“Richie, don’t talk about guns in school,” Mrs. Osgood says from the doorway, looking exasperated as she starts waving the line of students out into the hall.  
  
“Why do you want to be like that? It sounds mean,” Eddie says, keeping his voice down as they start to walk.

.

Richie ignores the question as he looks at Eddie. He places the back of his hand on Eddie’s forehead the way his mom does when he has a temperature. “You don’t feel sick. Are you sure you’re sick?”

.

Eddie jerks away, looking horrified, and stumbles back into the stacked backpack cubbies by the door. He yelps a little at the impact, causing the teacher to look over at them in concern. Embarrassed, he recovers as quickly as he can but walks with more space between him and Richie.

“Don’t do that!” he snaps in a loud whisper. “It’s not  _forehead_  sick, anyways! It’s other stuff.”

.

“My mom says if you aren’t hot or throwing up then you aren’t really that sick,” Richie counters. “So you shouldn’t worry. Cause you aren’t really that sick.”

They make their way onto the school yard as Richie tries to decide what game he wants to play.

.

Eddie follows after him. “Well,  _my_  mom knows a lot about being sick and she - um - she says there’s sicknesses that you can’t see or feel, so I have that kind. And asthma.”

.

“What’s ass-ma?” Richie laughs at the word and looks at Eddie, impressed. “Did you make that up yourself?”

.

“No!” Eddie starts to unzip his fanny pack before some of their classmates start pushing past them. He moves aside to make room, sticking close to the school building. “It’s not _made up._  And it’s not  _ass_ -ma it’s  _azz_ -ma.” His cheeks turn pink at saying the word 'ass’, like the other kids do when they make fun of his asthma, so he looks down as he finishes opening his fanny pack.

“I have medicine for it, see?” He draws out his inhaler and shows it to Richie. “I have other medicine too… but my mom says I’m not s'posed to show it to people or the teacher’ll take it and, um, the school nurse isn’t a real doctor so she can’t have it neither.”

.

Richie giggles. “You said  _ass_.” His hands reach toward Eddie’s fanny pack curiously. “How much medicine do you have?”

.

Taking a step back, Eddie shoves the inhaler back where it came from and clutches the fanny pack defensively. “I _said_  I can’t show! Did your ears stop working or something?”

.

“You should show me! I won’t tell anyone. Come on, Eddie.” Richie leans closer conspiratorially. “It’ll be our  _secret_.”

.

Eddie chews on his bottom lip and looks from Richie, to his fanny pack, then back to Richie.

_A secret._

He doesn’t really have secrets, not even between he and Bill, his only real friend. He tells his mom everything out of habit, even though she doesn’t always like what he has to say. So a secret would be new… and kind of exciting.

“… Well… okay,” he says, unclasping the buckle that keeps his fanny pack around his waist. He holds it up to Richie and opens it, exposing its contents. “Um, so, I have my asthma medicine, but you saw that already. This one’s for allergies.” He points to one pill bottle and then the other. “And this one’s for my sickness. And I also have, um, cough drops… but not the kind that taste good, and bandaids. I  _wanted_  Disney ones but my mom said they’re for girls… so I got Thomas ones instead, because I like trains.” He glances up at Richie, cheeks reddening again. “But it’s  _just_  bandaids, I don’t, um,  _watch_  Thomas anymore, ‘cause it’s for babies.”

.

“That’s really cool! Also, Thomas isn’t for babies, Thomas is fun! And  _I’m_  not a girl and I like Disney. So you can too!  _Lion King_  is my favorite movie, I’ve seen it a thousand times,” he says proudly. “That’s what my dad says every time I want to watch it.  _‘Rich, you’ve seen this a thousand times already.’_  My favorite princess is Ariel… I think… maybe Belle. No wait! Mulan! Who’s your favorite?”

.

Eddie blinks in surprise, having been sure that Richie would make fun of him for his bandaids. But he doesn’t, he just talks excitedly like nothing is wrong. Eddie’s not sure what to do about that, so he looks away and hurriedly puts his fanny pack back on.

“Oh… um… I don’t know. I watched some when I was five ‘cause I slept over my aunt’s house a lot. My mom was kinda mad about it,” he says, shifting uncomfortably as he thinks about how sad and angry his mom always was after visiting his daddy in the hospital. “But… I don’t think I know if I can  _have_  a favorite since I was just five then and now I’m almost seven.”

.

“Just come over to my house and we can watch all the Disney movies!“ Richie offers immediately. “My mom makes the best snacks in the whole wide world.”

He leads the way over to a grassy area that has a big tree giving lots of shade and promptly lays down in the grass. He stares up at Eddie, expecting him to join.

.

Eddie fidgets nervously, because he’s not supposed to play in the grass. He’s allergic. He’s not sure what that  _means_ , exactly, but he knows that he is. But Richie’s being nice, and the only other person who’s nice to him is Bill. And if Richie’s anything like Bill, then it’ll be okay. So, he slowly drops to his knees, sitting daintily on his heels with his hands in his lap so that he’s touching the ground as little as possible.

“What kinda snacks?” he asks, though he knows his mom will probably never bring him to Richie’s house.

.

Richie starts picking at the grass, pulling it out and creating a pile. “She makes muffins, and popcorn, and hummus, and candied almonds, and quesadillas, and Rice Krispie treats, and… and, um, potato skins! A lot of kids usually are too busy to come over and play with me, but you should.”

By the time he finishes talking, Richie has started placing the grass on his knees and is trying to see how high he can make it.

.

Eddie just watches Richie with a mixture of awe and wariness, having no idea what to make of him. “Those all sound good. My mom doesn’t really make stuff much. She mostly gets things at the food store, but she also mostly eats all of the snacks by herself.” He lets out a giggle. “I never even heard of candied almonds before, or hummus. Or… the other one you said.”

.

“Rice Krispie treats? Sometimes mom lets me help her, when I’m not being ‘too Richie’ she says. So we could totally make them with her.” Richie sees something on his arm as he is picking grass and realizes it is a scabbed over cut. He starts to pick at it absentmindedly.

.

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “No, I know what Rice Krispie treats are! I meant the other -” He stops suddenly as he notices what Richie’s doing. Gasping, he lunges forward and grabs Richie’s hand. “Don’t do that!! It’ll get infected!!”

.

Eddie’s got a tight grip around Richie’s hand; it almost hurts, but it is also kind of nice that he cares. He looks at him in surprise though, because he said a word he’s never heard before. “Infected? What’s that mean?”

.

“It’s when your skin gets sick and turns green and dies and falls off!!” Eddie’s talking loudly and doesn’t let go of Richie’s hand. “You gotta let it heal, so  _don’t touch_.”

.

“Does it fall off and then you die?” Richie asks. “Or your skin dies and like melts off you but you’re still alive?”

.

“It… it depends!” Eddie says dramatically. “Usually the second one first and then the first one… it falls off and you’re still alive until you don’t _have_  any more skin and  _then_  you die.”

Eddie finally releases Richie’s hand, unzips his fanny pack again, and pulls out a  _Thomas the Tank Engine_ bandaid. “Here, you can’t pick if there’s a bandaid on top.” Without thinking, he unwraps the bandaid and reaches over, sticking it neatly across Richie’s scab.

.

Richie smiles fondly, first at the bandaid and then up at Eddie. “I’ll look at it and think of you, Eds.” The nickname rolls off his tongue easily. Richie prefers for everyone to have a nickname, because he’s heard it shows who your true friends are.

.

Eddie turns red and sits back on his heels. “My name’s  _Eddie_.”

.

Richie sees Eddie’s face redden and before he can help it, out spills, “You’re cute, cute,  _cute!_ ”

.

“No I’m not!” Eddie reddens more, and he feels like Richie’s making fun of him now, so he stands up. “I’m  _not_ cute and my name’s Eddie a-and-" He thinks back to the note Richie read to the class. “-and you better not try to bite me!”

.

“I was kidding around!” Richie gets up quickly, knowing he has messed everything up but not sure why. “Only kidding.”

.

Eddie puts his hands on his hips, imitating what he’s seen his mom and his teachers do when they’re mad. “I thought you were being nice but you’re just making fun of me like everyone else! Calling me names and talking to me like I’m a  _baby_  just ‘cause I’m little.”

.

Richie frowns, suddenly wanting to do something with with his hands too. His first instinct is to mimic Eddie’s stance to be funny, but he settles on crossing his arms. “I am NOT! And you  _are_  little, but that doesn’t make you a baby.”

.

“Oh yeah? Well what’re you doing then?” Eddie asks, growing more confused by Richie with every moment that passes. 

.

“Trying to be your friend!” Richie replies loudly.

.

Eddie looks at him with surprise, and still a little suspicion. “… Why?”

.

Richie shrugs and he lowers his eyes to the ground. “Cause I like you and think you’re cool.”

.

Eddie drops his hands to his sides. “I’m not cool.”

Briefly, he wonders if Richie is only talking to him because he _actually_  wants to be friends with Bill - because  _BILL_  is cool. But then he thinks about how in class, the other kids laugh when Richie does stuff but they don’t really talk to him otherwise. Eddie hasn’t seen him play much with anyone else, either. Finally, he realizes that maybe the reason kids don’t go to Richie’s house isn’t because they’re busy, but because he has no one to invite.

“But… okay… we can be friends.”

.

Richie perks up and their eyes meet. He is so happy he could hug Eddie, and so he does, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie’s shoulders. “Really? We can be friends?” He squeezes Eddie closer to him, letting out a laugh of relief.

.

Eddie stiffens - he  _really_  doesn’t want to get sick from Richie’s germs, and his mom says that  _good_  boys only hug their mothers. So he awkwardly pats Richie on the back with one hand, and then steps away to try to get out of the hug.

“Um, we can play on a the swing-set now, or… something.”

.

“Yes! I heard a kid once went all the way around on the swings.” Richie starts walking toward the swings with a little skip in his step. “I totally want to try that.” 

.

“Wh- what? No, you can’t!” Eddie hurries after him, thinking in horror that his second friend  _ever_  is really going to die the same day they met. But then, as he catches up to Richie, he can’t help but ask, “Can that really happen?”

.

Richie grins at him. “It’s a legend, but all legends are a little true.”

.

Eddie thinks about this, and a part of him wants to say he doesn’t believe it, but Richie’s so confident in his voice and his smile. He can’t help but trust him implicitly, now that they’re officially friends. “Okay, but if you break your bones my bandaids won’t help you.”

.

“I’ll be fine, Eds!” Richie says automatically.

They hurry off to the swings before recess is over. Richie spends the time being thrilled to have someone else to talk to. He meant it when he said Eddie was cool, from his mystery fanny pack, which is no longer a mystery to Richie but a secret between them, to his quiet thoughtful personality. Richie tends to say almost everything that enters his mind - everything that makes sense to him, at least - but Eddie seems careful about everything he does, which baffles and intrigues Richie all at once.   
  
By the end of recess, he has a strange wish to be around Eddie all the time, and with the way he smiles and laughs at Richie’s jokes, he thinks maybe Eddie does, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	2. Eddie & Richie Make an Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In fifth grade, Richie and Eddie escape the Bowers Gang by hiding in a dumpster. This is the full memory of the 'story' Richie told Eddie in their [after-party scene](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/post/177367338541/losers-at-a-frat-party-part-8-fin), but neither character remembers it happening (yet).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings, tags, etc, may change as more flashbacks are written. [Click here for more info about the Losers in College project!](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com/about)

**November, 2008 (Age 10), Streets of Derry - Characters: Richie & Eddie**

“RUN, EDS!!” Richie yells, pulling Eddie’s arm. He has done it again: put his foot in his mouth and insulted the Bowers Gang. If they didn’t make it so  _ easy, _ maybe he wouldn’t have told Henry, Victor, and Belch they looked like the three stooges because of Henry’s new bowl cut. 

Henry’s gang has no problem going after a couple of fifth graders, and he is kicking himself because Eddie got caught in the middle of it. Just from being connected to Richie, he is being chased too. Richie lets go of his arm reluctantly, so it is easier for them to run away, but he has never been a fast runner. The bullies almost always catch him, punch the living daylights out of him, and break his glasses. If that happens again, his parents will be so disappointed, which won’t be anything new.   
  
From somewhere behind them, he can hear Henry’s enraged screaming, “We’re gonna getcha, fuckface! Gonna getcha, you little smartass faggots!” 

Richie’s heart races with pure fear. They are  _ really _ angry today. Eddie and him are so fucked.   


.   


Eddie flinches when he hears Henry’s insult - he has almost no idea what it means to be a ‘faggot’, but he knows it must be bad, because he’s heard his mom say it with just as much disdain in her voice. But that doesn’t matter, not right now, not when he’s about to get creamed.   
  
He runs alongside Richie, knowing that whatever this is, they’re in it together - not just because he was there when Richie made the joke, but because he laughed at it. He doesn’t know what the Three Stooges ARE, per se, but it was funny because  _ Richie _ said it, and since Richie knows a lot more than Eddie does about things, he figures it must be a true comparison. If nothing else, Henry’s new haircut does look silly. He giggles again at the thought of it, and how Henry’s face looked just before he started chasing them.   
  
Glancing over, he sees that Richie is not laughing. He actually seems pretty afraid. Eddie probably ought to be more afraid than he is, but he’s having a hard time, even with Bowers on their tails. “Don’t worry, Richie, we’ll lose ‘em!” he says excitedly, as they round the corner of the elementary school’s fence and onto the sidewalk   


.   


Richie nods. “At least I got my partner in crime beside me.” He puts on a fake grin to show he’s not afraid. It almost works, except when he glances behind him, Henry is hot on their heels. That alone makes him pick up the pace.   
  
“We’re like Bonnie and Clyde! They almost never got caught.”  _ ‘Until they did,’ _ he thinks nervously, but he isn’t going to tell Eddie that. No way.   


.   


“Who’s that?” Eddie asks, somewhat surprised that his throat hasn’t started closing up yet. His mom always warns him not to do much running if he can help it, but he doesn’t mind it so long as he doesn’t have an asthma attack. He actually kinda  _ likes _ it, even if it’s just to escape Henry and his friends.   


.   


“Best bank robbers in the US. Always outran the law.” Richie is really huffing and puffing now. Then a saying about them pops into his head, and he’s surprised to find that it is also relatable to him and Eds. “There’s a quote - ‘ _ They may hate us together but they can’t stop us’. _ ”   


.

"Wait - bank robbers??” Eddie pants. “We didn't do anything wrong, though!"   


.   


"Well,  _ you _ didn't!" Richie counters. "I'm the one who fucked us over."   


.   


"It was just a joke, though, you didn't rob a bank," Eddie says, his tone very matter-of-fact. "Where're we going?"   


.   


Richie groans in exasperation at the situation. "I don't know, Eds! You’re my Derry Map. So get us outta here!"   


.   


"Don't call me that," Eddie retorts, then glances back to see that the Bowers gang are only a few yards behind them. He looks around, surveying the buildings they are coming up on, then grabs Richie's wrist and yanks him along as he veers to the left. "This way!"   


.   


Richie lets Eddie lead him down a random path. He trusts him to get them as far away from their imminent death as he possibly can. "Don't call you a map? But you freakishly ARE,  _ Eds! _ " He smiles, knowing that Eddie meant the nickname.   


.  


Eddie lets go of Richie's arm. "I'm not freakish!"   


.   


"You're right, You're too cute to be freakish." Richie laughs.   


.   


Eddie flushes at first, but then he hears Bowers' insults echoing in his head, and frowns. "I think I'd rather be freakish." He cuts into an alleyway, hoping they can lose the bullies quickly.   


.   


Richie starts to retaliate but trips over his feet a bit. "Fuck!" He rights himself before he hits the ground, but this clumsy moment makes him lose all running momentum.   


.   


Eddie doesn’t notice Richie’s fumble, mostly because he’s pointedly  _ not _ looking at him after being called  _ cute _ , so he keeps going down the alley, assuming Richie is right behind him.   


.   


Richie watches as Eddie keeps running and ends up multiple yards in front of him. This causes a panic to slowly rise inside him. Richie tries to get running again but it is no use, he’s not going to catch up with him. 

When he passes a dumpster in the alleyway, an idea pops into his head. He doubles back and jams himself between the wall and the dumpster. Fortunately, it is just a big enough gap to hide him and not be uncomfortable. He sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that Eddie is safe and far away from here.   


.   


It only takes a minute or so for Eddie to realize that Richie is not, in fact, right behind him. He skids to a halt, panting, and looks around, his stomach dropping with worry. “Oh rats.” 

He bites his lip, then begins to walk quickly back the way he came, mentally steeling himself for the Bowers encounter that is likely in his immediate future. He’s already listing out in his head excuses to give his mother, when he turns into the alley again... and sees nothing. Did they grab Richie and take him somewhere?? Why wouldn’t they beat him up here like normal? Or maybe Richie ran in another direction... 

“Richie?” he calls in a stage whisper, walking cautiously.   


.   


Richie hears Eddie's voice calling his name. "Damn it, Eds," he hisses in exasperation. He pokes his head out to see Eddie slowly making his way back down the alley. He could have so easily gotten away! Sometimes Richie wonders if he has a death wish. As Eddie passes the dumpster, Richie reaches out and grabs him, bringing him crashing down on top of him.   


.   


Eddie yelps as he’s grabbed suddenly, and immediately starts scrambling to fight back before realizing it’s just Richie. Then he stops, turns pink, and rushes to disentangle himself from Richie’s limbs to kneel beside him instead. “What’re you  _ doing _ here?” he whispers as Bowers’ yells can be heard from the street.   


.   


"What's shakin’, bacon?" Richie asks with a grin. "Ya shoulda kept running! Why did you come back?"   


.  


Eddie raises his eyebrows and says, as if nothing could be more obvious, “Well… ‘cause you weren’t there anymore.”   


.   


"Oh. Well… um..." Richie isn't sure what to say. He feels warm from Eddie's words, but a little uneasy too. And when Richie gets this way, he finds comfort in his Voices. "Bless my STARS! Such concern from the best man in my life! Be still my heart." His dramatic, ‘Southern Belle’ accent shines through as he bats his eyelashes at Eddie.   


.   


“That’s not - that’s not what I meant!” Eddie scoots back a little, flustered but not sure why. “I just... know that Henry can kick your butt no sweat and I wanted to get a front row seat, is all!”   


.   


“Shh!” Richie clamps his hand over Eddie’s mouth. He hears Henry’s angry calls close by. “He’s coming this way. Get behind here with me.”   


.   


“Yuck!” Eddie hisses before shoving Richie’s hand away. “I don’t want your hand near my mouth, who  _ knows _ where it’s been. And anyway, do you have  _ any  _ idea what kinds of diseases and stuff we could get from this dumpster?” 

He moves closer anyway, despite his complaining, and sits right next to Richie, pulling his knees into his chest tightly as he continues to whisper frantically, “There could be rats, we could get rabies. And my mom says people do _ drugs _ in alleyways and leave needles around just for kids to touch and get addicted to all  _ kinds _ of things. A-and a lot of mold is deadly, you know, and I heard you can die from breathing it—“   


.   


“Eddie, for the love of Pete!” Richie hisses harshly. He brings his own knees up, getting as close to Eddie as he can without touching. Loud footsteps come by the dumpster.   
  
“Check inside the garbage,” Henry snarls at someone.   
  
Richie’s breath hitches and he subconsciously grabs hold of Eddie’s hand, squeezing hard. He can hear his breathing getting heavier and shaky. He bites the nails from his other hand, trying to calm himself.   


.   


The noise from the bullies approaching is enough to shut Eddie up fast, because Richie alone surely wouldn’t have. He can hear rustling from the other side of the dumpster as one of them - Belch, probably - starts moving trash bags around.   
  
Holding his breath, Eddie’s gaze falls to their hands. Part of him wants to jerk away, because surely Henry will find them, and he can only  _ imagine _ what he’ll say about this - what he’ll tell  _ everyone _ at school... but there is another, stronger part of him that wants to stay put, and so he does. His eyes flick up to Richie’s face, and he sees him chewing on his nails. Thinking immediately of all of the bacteria that grow under fingernails, he reaches over with his free hand and pulls Richie’s away from his face, mouthing the word ‘ _ no _ ’ and shaking his head.   


.   


Richie brings his hand down, immediately listening to Eddie. He’s probably the only person he would never refuse, no matter his weird hang ups. Richie wonders why that is. Something about his big eyes and stubborn certainty makes Richie trust him, always.   
  
“They aren’t here, Henry,” Belch grunts out. “It stinks like shit.” Richie grits his teeth to prevent the hysterical laugh that threatens to escape. He glances at Eddie to start mouthing an insult.   


.   


Eddie can feel the laughter bubbling up inside him, so he releases one of Richie's hands and covers his eyes so that he can't see whatever Richie is trying to say. It doesn't matter that he can't read lips - just the amused light in Richie's eyes is enough to make him want to giggle. He bites his lower lip, heart racing - almost pleasantly, for some reason - as they wait for Henry to call his goons off.   


.   


The dumpster slams shut. Bowers growls in anger. There is a loud bang and the dumpster shakes, which makes Richie almost jump out of his skin. The shaking stops and Richie holds his breath. Bowers has obviously kicked the object in rage. “Come on, those fuckers aren’t here.” 

The sound of their feet can be heard running out of the alley, but Richie remains silent until he is positive they are gone. After the longest couple minutes of his life pass, he laughs a little. “Guess we aren’t dying today, Clyde.”   


.   


Now is the moment when Eddie finally rips his other hand out of Richie's grasp, flustered by how much time they spent connected in that way. "We weren't gonna  _ die _ ." He scoots over until he has room to stand, then starts dusting himself off once he's out from behind the dumpster. "And I'm _ not _ some criminal, I’m  _ Eddie. _ "   


.

“Ah, you _ like _ the danger, Eds.” Richie stands up, not bothering to wipe off the dirt. He peers around the dumpster. “Are we sure those dunderheads are gone?” He says this in an unconcerned manner, even if he is internally on edge.   


.   


"They're never gone," Eddie says pointedly. They could run into them again anywhere between here and home, and even if they didn't, they'd be at school the next day anyway. Henry rarely forgets an incident, and the longer it takes him to get his revenge, the angrier he gets. It’s probably would’ve been better to get the beating over with today. "This dumpster air  _ better _ not stick. My mom always gets so mad whenever I come home smelling like the dump."   


.   


Richie switches into his Granny Voice, immediately grabbing his back with one hand and waving the other in a a dramatic first. “Wouldn’t want your mommy thinking you were rolling around in trash and germs, young whipper snapper! Now, go get cleansed!”   


.   


"You  _ really _ need to work on that one," Eddie says, rolling his eyes. Then he starts walking, gesturing for Richie to follow. "Let's go."   


.   


Richie follows Eddie, thumping him on the back and thinking to himself that he wouldn’t mind escaping death with his best chum any day.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Richie - [ao3: thetheatregal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetheatregal); [tumblr: richiefuckfacetozier](https://richiefuckfacetozier.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Mike Hanlon Tries to Make a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's May of 2008, and ten year old Mike tries to meet Eddie for the first time. Trolleys stay in one place, but trains don't, and sometimes making a new friend isn't as simple as that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a companion piece, sort of, to [Mike and Eddie's first meeting in college](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955346/chapters/37704074).

**May, 2008 (Ages 9-10), Neibolt Street Baptist Church - Characters: Mike & Eddie**

Eddie hates Sundays.

His friends are always busy because of church - well, except for Stan, but that’s only because _he_ goes on Saturdays instead, but he doesn’t call it ‘church’. Eddie’s mom always makes him go, too, even though he always has an asthma attack during Communion. He hasn’t been able to go up to the altar for the last two years because of it, and it’s _embarrassing_ sitting alone in the pews sucking on his inhaler while everyone else does it without issue. He wonders how they can all just _go up_ , smiling and carefree, knowing for sure that they won’t be condemned by God or Jesus once they try to take the Communion bread. Because _Eddie_ sure can’t do that. _Eddie_ has been afraid of Communion almost since he was old enough to start doing it. So he goes to church because his mom goes, and because he wants so badly to be _good_ , but it’s one of the scariest places in Derry, in his opinion.  
  
Lately he’s taken to riding his bike down to Neibolt street on Sunday mornings to try to get some of that pre-church nervous energy out. His mom hates it, because she’s always worried it will make them late and he’ll come home dirty, but she’s not so good at stopping him from leaving the house anymore. She’s too slow to catch him, but he always come home in time, ready to have his Sunday morning asthma attack.

He’s dirty either way, so what difference does it make?

Sometimes he parks his bike across the street from the Baptist Church on Neibolt Street and sits under the tree there, listening to the exuberant services going on inside. It’s a smaller building than Derry First Methodist is, but it’s white and worn and friendly-looking, and the music that comes from inside is always loud and exciting. It always baffles Eddie, because it sounds too happy to be properly religious, as if the people inside actually _like_ being there and aren’t at all afraid of burning in Hell. Sitting there and absorbing the vibes from that church sometimes helps him be braver about going to his own services, but still not brave enough to do Communion. But maybe someday, it will.  
  
So that’s where he is right now, sitting beneath the tree with his bike propped up next to him, pretending to read the comic book he brought with him although he’s really just listening to the music and laughter coming from inside.

.

Mike likes Sundays.

Sunday mornings, he knows, are very important to his mom. She always picks his clothes out the night before and wakes him up early - (on Saturdays she doesn’t wake him up, because his dad insists that he should have one day to sleep in all he wants) - so the three of them can have a special breakfast together, like pancakes or eggs and toast instead of his usual cereal or sandwich, and then get ready to go to church. And Mike loves his mom’s church, too; he doesn’t understand all of it, but they talk a lot about love, the music is always uplifting and fun, and everything about it feels good. It makes his mom very, very happy, so that makes Mike happy, too.  
  
After the service is when he starts to get a little bit bored, though. Jessica likes to stay long after the service is over (twenty or sometimes even _thirty_ minutes, and to a kid like Mike, that feels like hours) because that’s the most important part of it, she says, getting to talk to everyone about their lives and God and other adult stuff Mike doesn’t really understand. Usually, Will joins them, but it’s spring now and spring’s a very busy time for the farm, so it’s just Mike and his mother today. And without his dad to keep him entertained, he’s starting to get pretty restless. The grown ups don’t talk to the kids and the other kids don’t really want to play with him, so he has to entertain himself, jumping up and down the church steps, kicking rocks, watching bugs and other things, all while trying to keep his nice Sunday clothes perfectly clean.

Eventually, however, as he’s kicking rocks into the road, he finds something more interesting to set his mind to. Just across the street, under a big tree, there’s a small boy he recognizes, because that boy is there almost every Sunday. Mike is sure he’s seen him sitting there after service at least four, and now five times in a row, looking all anxious. Does he just sit there for the whole service? Maybe he’s too shy to come in. Maybe Mike could talk to him and get him to come inside next Sunday, and maybe - _maybe_ they’d even become friends and play together! Excited at the very thought, Mike waves at him, but the boy doesn’t notice him at all. So he runs to his mom, who’s busy talking to some other lady, and gently tugs on her sleeve until she turns to look at him.  
  
“Hm? What is it, sugar?” Jessica asks gently.  
  
“Mommy,” he says, and points to the mystery kid across the street, very excited, “can I go talk to that boy over there? He’s all alone.”  
  
“Don’t point at people, Mikey,” his mother reminds him, and Mike lowers his hand as she looks over. Her brow furrows once she spots who he’s talking about, and she looks around in worry, as if she's expecting to see someone she really doesn't like. Mike doesn’t understand the reaction, but it doesn’t matter anyways, because Jessica says, “Well, alright.” Then she leans down, puts her hands on her son’s shoulders, and adds, “But if his mom shows up, you run right back to me, okay?”

Mike doesn't question this, he just nods quickly and runs off; he’s across the street in seconds, running fast despite his scraped knees, because making friends is more important than hurt knees. Once he’s standing next to the boy under the tree, he waits a few seconds to catch his breath, then holds his hand out for him to shake. “Hi! I’m Mike. What’s your name?”

.

 _Oh no. This has never happened before._ Someone from the church is trying to _talk_ to Eddie, and that’s not supposed to happen. People aren’t supposed to notice him; he doesn’t take up much space and he doesn’t make much noise, because he doesn’t like to ‘ _make a scene_ ’, or _‘have a snit’_ , as his mom says. But in spite of his efforts to seem like he was minding his own business, a kid is still standing over him now, smiling and holding out his hand.  
  
He’s seen this kid - _Mike_ \- around before, here and in town. His mom doesn’t like him or his parents, but she won’t say why exactly, just complains about _‘those people’_ and how they’re _‘freeloading off the government’_. Once, Eddie mentioned that _she_ doesn’t have a job either - they use food stamps when they buy things at the store and all that - but she yelled and cried for thirty whole minutes about how he doesn’t appreciate her _or_ his father, but that made no sense to him, because his dad has been dead for four years. Point is, he hasn’t questioned those comments since.  
  
He nervously chews his bottom lip as he stand up to face Mike, clutching his comic book so tightly that the paper wrinkles. “Eddie,” he says quietly, and does not shake Mike’s hand.

.

Mike doesn't notice Eddie's discomfort. He can't imagine why Eddie would be uncomfortable, because he was polite and did everything right, as far as he knows, handshake and everything. So he takes his hand back, still smiling, and keeps going.

"I like that name! That's a cool name. Your comic is cool, too. I don't read a lot of comics, but, uh - well, I know a lot about trolley tracks! My daddy told me all about them just yesterday," he says proudly, putting his fists on his hips like a superhero. He's never met a kid who likes the same things he does, but maybe Eddie will. "Do you like trolley tracks?"

.

“I... I like train tracks...?” Eddie replies with uncertainty, glancing to his left, where Derry’s old, defunct Southern Seacoast train station exists down the road. He knows he _should_ leave, but he can’t help himself, his curiosity is too strong in the moment. “What’s the difference?”

.

"Well, they're _kind of_ like train tracks. But trolleys are different," Mike says, trying to remember everything his dad had told him and the pictures he'd shown him the night before.

"Trains are supposed to travel really far away, but trolleys are made to travel on streets, inside the town! How cool is that?! So, the tracks, they have to be on the same level as the road, not like train tracks," he explains, using his hands to describe everything more easily. "See? Very different." Mike can't help his big smile, proud of himself for remembering all that, and also just very happy to have someone to share all this information with.  
  
"They don't run in Derry anymore, because we have buses now," he continues, "but my daddy showed me pictures! They had this funny pole on the roof that went up to an electrical wire. And they had a bunch of ads on the side, like cigarettes and stuff. You know, grown up stuff."

.

“Oh.” Eddie shifts from one foot to the other, looking down at the grass. Trolleys sound cool, but kind of pointless. What’s the use in them if they never leave the city’s borders? You’re still stuck. It’s more fun to fantasize about leaving forever, which is why Eddie finds trains more appealing. But as much as he wants to explain all that to this kid he just met, he’s not sure he can get the words out right. Not to mention, every second he spends here with Mike brings his mother one second closer to going out looking for him, and finding him here.  
  
This is the thought that makes him take a step backward, toward his bike. “I gotta go now...”

.

Mike's smile drops, as well as his excitement about what he was talking about before. He should've known Eddie wouldn't care about trolley tracks, no other kid in school was _ever_ interested in all the things Mike learned from his dad. And now Eddie wants to leave, but Mike doesn't want him to. Even if he doesn't care about trolley tracks, they could still be friends!  
  
“Oh, well, uhm… I like comics, too…” he says, desperately trying to find something else to talk about. “Oh! I like your bike!” Mike walks over to Eddie's bike and inspects it; it's nothing special, really, but it's still newer and more intact than his own. “Mine’s old, and kinda stiff, it doesn't turn very well, but daddy said he'll fix it. My dad's real good at fixing things.”

.

Logically, Eddie knows that Mike’s just trying to be nice and make conversation, but the moment he moves toward Eddie’s bike, it feels somehow like the other boy is trapping him there. He feels his throat tighten up and a familiar burning feeling crop up behind his eyes. He _needs_ to leave, and he needs his bike to do that, but Mike’s _standing there_ , and it was a mistake to come here, because he’s not meant to be around a _happy_ church, he’s meant to be with his mother. Just like he’s meant to go to Hell. He doesn’t deserve Communion bread and he doesn’t deserve to talk to Mike.  
  
He tries to blink it away, but his eyes are still wet and desperate when he looks up at Mike and actually makes real eye contact for the first time. “I gotta go,” he repeats, reaching for his bike. “My mom will - um - church, I need to go to church now. Please. Sorry.”

.

“... Oh. Okay.”

Mike moves away from the bike, embarrassed. His stomach is in knots. Eddie's obviously uncomfortable and wants to get away from him. It's not like this hasn't happened before; you can't force people to be your friends, he knows, and you can't force people to see anything other than what they want to see. His daddy had told him that many times.

So Mike stands there as Eddie gets on his bike, ready to leave. But before he does, Mike pipes up one more time, if only to just be nice to the boy. “But, uh, just so you know, you can come inside next Sunday. The church, I mean. Everyone's welcome."

.

Eddie looks at Mike with confusion, and feels bad that he looks so let down. But he already has three friends and his mother hates _every_ single one of them, especially Richie - this would be no different. And Mike wouldn't understand, even if he tried his hardest to explain, just how much what he said can't _possibly_ be true for Eddie. He purses his lips and looks away, down the street toward home, then back to Mike.  
  
"That's not how church works," he says simply, before pedaling away.

.

Mike watches Eddie leave, disappointed, until he disappears. Then, he walks back to his mom so they can go. Mike is ready to go home now.  
  
He’s quiet on the way back, content to just be looking out the window of the backseat of his mom’s car. He almost wants to cry once or twice, thinking back, but he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want his mom to worry. Besides, Eddie’s wrong. Trolley tracks are _just_ as cool as train tracks. But his mom must’ve noticed his distress, because she asks suddenly, “Are you okay, Mikey?” He nods. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I’m okay,” he insists, and continues before his mom can object, “Eddie - the kid - he didn’t want to be friends. But that’s okay.”  
  
Jessica opens her mouth to say something, but she just sighs and doesn’t press. They’ll talk about it later, when she tucks him into bed, Mike knows that. For now, she just says, “Well, I’m sure your daddy needs a lot of help back home.”

Mike smiles at that; all he wants right now is to go home, change clothes, and get to work with his dad. That always makes him happy. Maybe he’ll take Chippy out with him to play, too. It’s spring and it’s nice out, after all.

Yeah. He'll be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow us/chat with the Losers on Tumblr! [losersincollege](https://losersincollege.tumblr.com)
> 
> Authors on this chapter:  
> Eddie - [ao3: confunded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/confunded); [tumblr: eddiefuckingkaspbrak](https://eddiefuckingkaspbrak.tumblr.com)  
> Mike - [ao3: mikehanlonstan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikehanlonstan); [tumblr: mikehanlonstan](https://mikehanlonstan.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
